[ 1994/12/30 ]

Calling out behind the sun
In caustic bits of empty thought
The fleeting flesh probe on the run
Within the mental ether caught

Resting in its foul domain
Retreating from the brazen light
Our source of joy, our source of pain
Endlessly in corporal night

To tear this terror from my soul
Removing horrors from my head
Would leave me as a vacant hole
Serene and peaceful; cold and dead